


Far From Over

by heeroluva



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bestiality, Choking, Coming Untouched, Face-Fucking, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Shapeshifting, Size Kink, Stomach Bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-16 06:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: Uncertain what he expected to see, it’s assuredly not the runaway elf that Dorian has had a longstanding crush on and a wonderful habit of always saying the wrong thing to.





	Far From Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



Dorian’s muscles burn as he runs, heart racing as he feels his shields fizzle and fade as a fireball impacts it. He might have found the tiny blue flowers that he tramples unnoticed beautiful had he not been running for his life from a horde of demons. He ducks around a boulder just in time to avoid being roasted alive by another fireball, the heat of it causing his skin to redden as the rock turns to molten stone. Despite his best efforts, they’re gaining on him.

Yes, Dorian, great job volunteering for this mission alone, Dorian. Smart thinking, Dorian, he chides himself as he continues to run, breaths coming in harsh wheezing pants before he stumbles, cursing himself as he falls, skidding through the flower. Pushing himself up, he darts around another towering boulder and sees a flash of light. Dorian can’t believe what he’s found, the ghostly swirls upon the mirror leaning unguarded in the open.

Before Dorian can consider the consequences of his actions, he throws himself through the Eluvian, relieved that he meets no resistance, that it’s not locked, that he hadn’t just brained himself, and spinning he swings the butt of his staff, shattering the glass. Weapon dropping from his trembling fingers, it clatters against the stone floor as Dorian sinks to his knees, suddenly exhausted.

The sudden gathering of magic close by caused Dorian’s hair to stand on end, and he slowly turns his head to look over his shoulder and wonders if he’d managed to jump out of the frying pan into the fire.

Uncertain what he expected to see, it’s assuredly not the runaway elf that Dorian has had a longstanding crush on and a wonderful habit of always saying the wrong thing to.

Rising to his feet, Dorian runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, makes an attempt look at least somewhat presentable as he tries to brush the dust off his clothing, but they’re scorched and well beyond saving. “Fancy meeting you here, Solas, or would you prefer Fen’Harel? I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you, but we both know that’d be a lie.” Dorian gives a mocking bow, his smile sharp as his eyes travel around the grand hall, taking in the large murals of a familiar elf. “Seems you’ve moved up in the world. From apostate hobo to elven god.”

Solas’ face remains carefully neutral, but his eyes give him away, burning with emotion. “Solas, if you please. It seems that your tongue is as uncouth as ever.” Solas glances between the shattered Eluvian and Dorian before he sighs. “I’d just finished repairing that one. Now tell me how it is you got past my defenses.”

“What defenses? Oh pardon me, were those demons trying to kill me friends of yours?” Dorian knows that it’s not wise to bait Solas, not now on this unfamiliar playing field, but he cannot help himself, always enjoying Solas’ sharp wit. His mana reserves are far too low, and he knows that if this turns into a fight, he’s likely very outclassed. He crouches down, reaching behind himself for the familiar security of his staff, but before his fingers can close around it, with a flick of Solas’ wrist it flies through the air where it lands with a smack against his waiting palm, fingers closing around it.

“I think not,” Solas says.

“Nifty trick,” Dorian says as he inches towards the closest doorway he can see, uncertain if Solas’ response is an answer to his question, a threat, or perhaps both. There’s no shame in running when one knows he’s outmatched, especially if it means he’ll live to see another day.

Solas watches intently, not moving as Dorian takes one step, than a second towards the door. The third sees Dorian legs giving out, crashing against a table and sending piles of books tumbling to the floor is disarray.

Dorian gasps for breath, his hand going to his throat as he struggles for air, his heart racing faster now than when he’d been chased, fresh sweat breaking out across his body as an unbearable heat washes over him. “What have you done to me?” Dorian demands.

“I have done nothing. You did this to yourself. Chased, you said? Your adrenaline was high. It must have delayed the effects.”

“Effects of what?” Dorian bites out.

Solas stalks forward, and Dorian feels very much the prey as Solas’ hand unexpectedly slides along his flushed cheek. It takes all of his willpower to not press against its coolness, to jerk back instead, sprawling inelegantly on his ass.

“And here I thought you were a smart man. Perhaps I should reconsider.”

Dorian freezes, swallowing thickly when a bare foot unexpectedly presses between his legs against the bulge of his very hard cock, and he can’t help but moan, growing hotter. “The flowers,” Dorian breathes, a flash of them appearing in his brain, the same stormy blue as Solas’ eyes.

Solas’ foot presses harder, sliding against Dorian, who shudders. “Yes. Now what should I do with you?”

Dorian he tugs at the ruins of his top, the slide of it against his skin suddenly too much, the seams popping in his haste, but he didn’t care, has not shame in his need to feel air against his skin. His eyes are half lidded as he rolls his hips against Solas’ foot, falling back on his elbows as he reaches up to twist his nipples, hooking his fingers through the hoops there and tugging, hearing Solas’ words from far away.

“Heh,” Solas scoffs even as he eyes Dorian appraisingly. “I always knew the Inquisition would find me again, but this is far from the greeting I expected. Should I lock you away, make you beg, or do I make you howl?”

And howl Dorian does when Solas rubs his foot just right, coming all over his smallclothes, shaking with the intensity of it. There’s no buildup, no warning, just pleasure. He must have closed his eyes because when they open again, Solas is standing naked before him, impressive cock standing tall, balls hanging low and heavy beneath.

Licking his lips, Dorian wants nothing more than to taste it, to choke on it as Solas fucks his face. Maybe he spoke aloud or maybe Solas reads it on his face because he moves forward, knotting his fingers in Dorian’s hair, and urging him up onto his knees.

Groaning as the magnificent cock slides across his face, Dorian opens his mouth eagerly, wanting to taste him, but Solas moves back just out of reach, his grip tightening on his hair and preventing him from doing so.

A thumb brushes along his lip, and Dorian’s tongue darts out to taste it. “I’ve dreamt of this,” Solas muses. “But even my dreams cannot measure up to the reality of you on your knees before more.”

Dorian’s floating on a high greater than even the best dens of depravities Tevinter has to offer, languid and oh so very hot. He needs to… needs to… he _needs_. Dorian moans happily when Solas finally presses his cock against his lips, his tongue snaking out to sample what’s on offer. The taste and smell of him is overwhelming and not nearly enough. His cock throbs unhappily in the wet confines of his undergarments, and he shuffles forward enough to rub himself against Solas’ leg.

Solas laughs at the wanton behavior, as he finally sinks into the welcoming wet heat of Dorian’s eager mouth. Dorian moans, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks him down, tongue pressing along its base. Solas doesn’t stop when he reaches the back of Dorian’s throat, doesn’t stop when he gags, having never learned to fully suppress his gag reflex despite giving it extensive effort. Solas continues until Dorian’s nose is buried in the curls at the base of his cock, Solas’ balls resting snuggly against his Dorian’s chin.

Tears form in the corners of Dorian’s eyes as Solas holds himself there, ignoring the way that Dorian gags, throat convulsing around him, the way he tries to swallow, the way his hands raise up to Solas’ powerful thighs and try to push him away. Yet Solas doesn’t move as Dorian continues to rut against him despite his discomfort.

“Such a pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. It’s almost a pity to silence your smart mouth,” Solas says with a groan as Dorian’s throat continues to massage him.

Spots dance before Dorian’s eyes, his arms falling away as he goes boneless, lungs burning with lack of air, yet his cock has never been so hard in his life. Solas pushes his leg forward against Dorian’s straining cock, the same instance he withdraws his own cock from Dorian’s throat, resulting in a noisy inhale.

Dorian doesn’t care about the pain of his knees against bare stone, doesn’t care how he must look, wrecked and ravaged, his face red and wet with tears and drool as he shakes with the force of his sudden orgasm. When Solas shoves himself back into Dorian’s mouth again, he gags, but there is little he can do as Solas begins to fuck his face.

The sounds are obscene, wet and lewd and oh so messy as Solas’ balls smack against his chin with every thrust, as Solas’ fingers pull at his hair as he guides Dorian’s head along his cock. It should have been uncomfortable, the way he gags, the strange clicking sounds his throat makes, the groans that turn indecent as they’re interrupted by Solas’ cock, and in a way it is, but any discomfort he feels is far overshadowed by his need for more, his cock still straining hard and eager after coming twice in quick succession.

Dorian fumbles with the buckles of his pants, needing to touch, needing… needing… He groans as his oversensitive cock springs free, slick and wet, shuddering when it slides along the rough material of Solas’ trousers. Dorian comes twice more as Solas continues to fuck his mouth, his balls aching from over use, but still begging for more, shaking with the aftershocks when Solas’ rhythm changes, faltering, growing jerky as he groans.

The first spurt goes straight down Dorian’s bulging throat, the second draws a groan from his as he savors the rich saltiness. The rest streak along his face, adding to mess there. He whines and pouts when Solas pulls away completely, his voice gravelly and unfamiliar as he challenges, “Is that all you’ve got?”

The smile that stretches across Solas’ face is wide and anything but friendly as he traces his thumb around Dorian’s red and swollen lips, pressing it inside, his cock starting to grow thick again when Dorian immediately sucks on the digit, tongue swirling around it as he challenges him.

Solas tugs his thumb free with an audible pop. “Remove your pants. I’d have you on your hands and knees.”

Maybe in another situation Dorian would have a smart response, but he’s too happy at the prospect of getting his ass stuffed to argue. Dorian’s fumbling is anything but elegant as he fights to rid himself of the tight leather, eager to be fucked.

The stone floor beneath him is blessedly cool but oh so unforgiving, and as long moments pass without Solas touching him, Dorian arches his back, offering what he knows is a very fine ass for Solas’ inspection. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees Solas slowly stroking his cock. “Enjoying the view?”

“Immensely,” Solas says still not moving forward.

Dorian’s cock dangles hard and dripping between his thighs, his hole flexing with his desire to be fucked. Pressing his chest against the floor, he arches his back further as he reaches back and grabs his cheeks, spreading himself open. “Are you waiting for a written invitation?”

Solas barks out a startled laugh and moves forward, sinking to his knees between Dorian’s spread thighs before he finally presses the slick tip of his cock against Dorian’s hole. Dorian groans and tries to push back, but Solas’ presses a hand between his shoulder blades, effectively pinning him as he oh so slowly pushes through the tight clutch of Dorian’s hole to the welcoming heat within.

They both moan when Solas bottoms out, Dorian clenching down around him as he commands, “Fuck me.”

Solas’ pace is short and shallow, each thrust grazing his prostate skillfully, and yet not at all the pounding fuck that Dorian needs. He still moans, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth stone floor, his cock spurting across the floor as he comes, and still he burns with need, for more, for so much more.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Dorian bites out. “Or should I go see if you have anyone hiding around here who knows how to fuck?”

“You talk too much,” Solas chides without heat, responding to the words exactly as Dorian had hoped, slamming his hips forward, his low hanging balls smacking loudly against Dorian’s taint.

Dorian wants to snap at him, but instead he moans as Solas begins to fuck him hard, one hand still pressed between his shoulder blades, the other curled tightly around his hip.

This is what Dorian wanted, but it’s still not enough. “More. I need more.”

“Do you?” Solas asks breathlessly. “I wonder if you can handle all of me.”

There’s no time for Dorian to voice a question, probably not enough sense left in him to form words even if he wanted to at this point, when he feels the already thin Veil shift and roll, and then Dorian can barely breathe as a flood of power pours over him, through him.

Dorian screams, cock jerking, cum spurting and spurting until his balls ache and he has nothing left to give, until the pleasure becomes too much, too intense, and yet it doesn’t stop, barely noticing at first the way that Solas’ form above him, within him is changing, shifting, _growing_.

Dorian pants, open mouthed, wet cheek pressed against the floor as Solas swells larger within him, both thicker and longer, until he makes an unhappy sound, shifting his legs wider in an attempt to alleviate the pressure, yet still he grows.

The weight pressing down on Dorian increases as the fingers curled against Dorian’s skin grow suddenly sharp, pricking his skin, and the sudden brush of something silky tickling his thighs causes him to shiver. When Dorian raises his head, he freezes as his brain tries to process what he’s seeing, the great black head curled above him, the multitude of red eyes, the sharp fangs, and the lolling tongue, that gives Dorian the distinct feeling that Solas is laughing at him.

If ever Dorian had needed evidence that there was so much more to Solas than any of the Inquisition had ever known, this certainly goes a long way towards sealing that. But all Dorian can think about right now is that itch that had been growing in his gut is finally being scratched. It’s far too much, more than he’d ever wanted, could imagine, and it’s wonderful.

Dorian would dare even say perfect as he moans, trying to spread his hips wider still as Solas still grows within him. He’s not sure what prompts him to do it, but he reaches back and brushes his hand against his stomach, unbelieving that he feels the bulge Solas’ cock through the stretched skin, feels it continue to grow.

Just when Dorian thought it couldn’t get any worse (better), Solas pulls out oh so slowly, before slamming back in, and it’s only his weight upon Dorian that prevents him from sliding along the floor.

Dorian can do little but moan as Solas sets a harsh pace, panting loudly above him, as he fucks him hard. Teeth clenched, face twisted in a pleasured grimace, Dorian shakes with pained pleasure, his cock soft as he comes. His ass strains as it’s unbelievably stretched, and he lets out a small half-hysterical laugh as he wonders if he’ll be forever ruined for a normal man after this, if he’ll ever find satisfaction in something that’s not truly monstrous. He doesn’t have the guts to reach back, to feel and see just impossibly large Solas is.

Later Dorian will realize that there was most certainly magic at work, but at the time all he can do is feel, every nerve ending ablaze. Perhaps if he had been in his right mind he might have considered earlier the peculiarity of canine cocks, but it’s only when the thick bulb of flesh at the base of Solas’ magic cock batters Dorian’s already overflowing ass, that he remembers the knot.

“I can’t,” Dorian whispers, voice barely audible, wrecked from screaming, his first denial of the day, certain that this will be a step too far, that it’ll be too much. Yet Solas doesn’t falter, licking a long stripe across the mess of his face at which Dorian curls his nose, twisting away in distaste.

 _You can,_ Solas voice echoes warm and fluid through Dorian’s head. Solas’ rhythm changes then, each thrust, hard and purposeful, cruelly grinding his fat knot against the unbelievably stretched, reddened rim of Dorian’s ass.

“I can’t,” Dorian repeats, brain stuck on the impossibility, fear rising, even in the face of the overwhelming, inescapable pleasure. He tries to scramble away, clawing against the floor, kicking out, but his struggles get him nowhere.

Dorian can feel Solas’ amusement in his head, the deep rumble of his voice as he says, _You will._

Slowly but surely Dorian’s body betrays him, and he hisses at the burning stretch as Solas presses deeper into him. Dorian sobs unexpectedly, the sound startling him, and he presses a fist against his mouth when a second one escape him, abruptly hopelessly overwhelmed. Eyes going wide, his mouth falls open in a silent scream, when the thickest part of Solas’ finally pops into him completely, his hole clenching shut behind its bulk.

Dorian sobs again as it wedges against his prostate, desperately overstimulated, as he shakes with agonizing ecstasy as his soft cock twitches, leaking clear fluid as an orgasm hits him again. So lost in what he’s feeling, he barely notices the way that Solas’ cock swells and twitches until Solas howls in his mind and aloud, the volume causing him to flinch.

The fleeting thought that the worst is over crosses Dorian’s mind before he notices a sudden pressure in his stomach. He breaks out in a sweat, suddenly far too warm, and with trembling fingers he presses them against the swell of his stomach, the shape of Solas’ cock losing some of its definition, as he pumps Dorian full of cum.

More exhausted than he’s even been, Dorian lets his eyes fall shut, lets himself drift, barely moaning when Solas’ eventually pulls out, forcing him to stretch open again around Solas’ shrinking cock. The rush of cum that follows should be humiliating, but Dorian is just too tired to care.

Strong arms lift him, and he finds himself sinking into a warm fluid, tender hands cleaning him before he’s once again lifted and wrapped in a cloud.

When Dorian awakes, he shifts and groans in pain, trying to remember when he’d done to warrant such a state. He sits up abruptly, remembering his encounter with Solas and hisses as his body protests the movement. He blinks in shock when he finds the elf sleeping, sitting in a chair, head resting on the lush bed that Dorian occupies.

Dorian pushes aside the thought of sneaking out before it’s fully formed, looking around the room curiously, eyes shining excitedly at the wall of books. The knowledge that they must hold, especially if they are as ancient as Solas, is too much of a beacon for Dorian to ignore, and he climbs out of bed, pausing for a moment to reach behind himself and touch his still swollen hole, hissing in discomfort before he pads naked across the room.

Picking up a book at random Dorian frowns when he doesn’t recognize the text, the frown deepening as he opens book after book only to find the same symbols that he can’t read. A sound behind him causes him to jump startled, book slipping out of his hand, wincing as the pages bend from the abuse. Bending he picks it up, and straightens the pages as best as he can before he turns.

The Solas that Dorian is met with isn’t the confident mage that Dorian is used to, and he knows it’s not just in response to Dorian’s nudity.

“Dorian,” Solas says before pausing, and drawing a steadying breath, his back straightening as he meets Dorian’s eyes. “There are no words strong enough to express my regret for the wrong that I have wrought you. I underestimated the effect that the flower’s pollen would have on me.”

Dorian struggles to keep a straight face, but it’s a losing fight, laughter rising from his chest.

Solas crosses his arms with a frown. “I fail to see what’s so funny.”

Dorian saunters forward, eyes sliding over Solas’ sleep rumpled form, his sore cock thickening slightly. Solas watches Dorian’s hand suspiciously as it rises, curling against his cheek. “Only you would apologize for the best sex of my life.”

“I ignored your wish to stop,” Solas argues.

“And yet, I stand here, sated and very sore, and say that there is nothing to forgive.”

“But—”

“Maker save me from self-flagellating elves.” Dorian surges forward, pressing his mouth over Solas’, savoring his startled look before he lets his eyes drift shut. It’s a moment before Solas responds, almost desperately returning the kiss, moaning against Dorian’s mouth as Dorian's fingers explore the long line of Solas' ear while the other slides over that bald head he’s wanted to touch for so long.

Dorian reacts to the gathering magic too late, barely having a moment to see Solas’ sorrowful face before the sleep spell washes over him, Solas catching him before he hits the ground.

When Dorian awakes again it’s in unfamiliar clothing, his staff at his side, the meadow of blue flowers visible in the distance. “Vishante Kaffas!” Dorian shout as he rises to his feet, pausing to note the strange weight around his neck. Wide-eyed he closes his fingers around the familiar wolf jaw that had always adorned Solas’ neck. A slow smile crosses his face as he realizes that their story is far from over.


End file.
